


Feyre, Rhysand, and the Carrot Confusion

by Aluminum_Crow



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Carrot - Freeform, Crack, F/M, It's HER CHOICE, Procrastination is BAE, Rhys is NOT a mind rapist, The Racist Orange Man Ruling America, Trigger Warning: Baby Shark, Velaris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27136297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aluminum_Crow/pseuds/Aluminum_Crow
Summary: Feyre, looking like she was about to pass out, said, “It’s been over fifty years! But are you telling me that I was mated to a CARROT!?!?”He gave her a look. “Wow, you are quite a loser.”
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Feyre/A Carrot
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Feyre, Rhysand, and the Carrot Confusion

It was a day in the Night Court. It usually was, except for when it was night time, in which case it wasn’t. Feyre and Rhysand were responsibly ruling their country by procrastinating from their work and walking around the city. The locals smiled at them and waved, and they smiled and waved right back, as if they were all being robotically mind controlled by a robot with the sinister plan to make them all unerringly, unnervingly happy. All of the time.

As the two very rich and powerful lovebirds walked from one of their sprawling mansions to the next, passing some seemingly skinny people in threadbare clothing, Feyre mused to herself. Rhysand, having invaded her thoughts like usual, said them out loud without her permission like some sort of mind rapist (which he wasn’t, because it was  _ her choice _ ). “Why yes, Feyre darling, I  _ do _ remember when you were a poor, sad human living in a tiny shack! But now you’re rich, so, like… Ignore the peasants!”

Feyre gave him a slightly concerned look. “Aren’t you at all worried about your public image? I mean, you nearly shouted that, and a lot of these people are poor. It could, maybe,  _ possibly _ be seen as insulting, ya know?”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “Oh, Feyre, the people love me! And totally not because I’m mind controlling all of them all of the time to be that way, considering that I’m the most powerful High Lord of all time!”

He smiled and waved at some peasants, and they smiled and waved right back, an empty look in their seemingly happy eyes. “See?”

Feyre shook her head slightly. “Whatever. Where are we going for lunch?”

He looked at her, a very… Telling look in his eyes. Feyre knew exactly what he was going to say next. “I don’t know Feyre, you choose. After all, it’s,” he struck a dramatic pose before finishing, “ **_Your choice._ ** ”

Feyre gave a sigh. “Look Rhys, I’m really not sure what I want, but I’m open to options. Besides, you’re like, super old and probably know a lot more about  _ your own city _ after living here for  _ hundreds of years _ then I do after living here for three.”

Rhys shook his head, sending high pitched and annoying thoughts of ‘ **_IT’S YOUR CHOICE!’_ ** Feyre’s way so they would echo around her head annoyingly and without her permission (sorta like a mind rapist (WHICH HE WAS NOT)). She eventually caved, as the thought was being screamed in her mind to the tune of Baby Shark, and just said, “Fine, let’s go get some Ramen. You know, it’s not very nice to torture your mate the way you tortured people Under the Mountain.”

Rhysand’s nose scrunched. “Ramen? But that’s poor people's food!”

The poor passersby all smiled and waved.

He then proceeded to drag Feyre into a rich people restaurant, ordering for her (Because it was  **_HER CHOICE._ ** )

After they left the snooty rich people restaurant, Rhysand started shaking and spasming. He twitched on the ground, and Feyre fell to her knees. “Rhysand, you may be being a huge jerk today, but you can’t die on me now! I’m barely fit to rule a country as it is!”

But Rhysand was not dying. That very moment, Rhysand winnowed out of absolutely nowhere. “Who are you, and who’s that twitching on the ground?”

Feyre turned to look at him, a crazed look in her eye. “Who are you?!?”

“I’m Rhys. Who’s that? And who are you?”

Finally, the guy who was (apparently not) Rhys transformed into a large carrot. The person who was (apparently) Rhys said, “Oh, wow! I didn’t know that the glamour I put on that carrot all of those years ago would last so long!”

Feyre blanched. “Wait… What do you mean?”

“Well, random stranger, because you asked, I enchanted this here carrot to pretend to me the first time I saw Amarantha. I then fled to America, which is in a different realm, and watched as the entire country fell apart to a global pandemic. They were ruled by an orange man who said a bunch of racist things, so I left. How much time has passed?”

Feyre, looking like she was about to pass out, said, “It’s been over fifty years! But are you telling me that I was mated to a CARROT!?!?”

He gave her a look. “Wow, you are quite a loser.”

With that, Feyre snapped awake. Rhys was sleeping next to her, decidedly not a carrot. She poked him, and he woke up. “What’s wrong, Feyre darling?”

“Are… Are you a carrot?”

THE END.


End file.
